


Of God and Dakin

by Ozalina



Category: History Boys (2006), History Boys - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Oxford, Posner's spaniel heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 05:55:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozalina/pseuds/Ozalina
Summary: It starts with a kiss, with Posner drunk and bemoaning his eternal virginity at the cruel and uncaring hands of Dakin.Originally written in 2010 for Porn Battle IX (and with very little sex in it)





	Of God and Dakin

It starts with a kiss, with Posner drunk and bemoaning his eternal virginity at the cruel and uncaring hands of Dakin.

Scripps had just rolled his eyes, and reminded Posner of that pesky little chastity vow he’d never gotten over. They’re as badly off as each other.

Posner still isn’t sure exactly who kissed who, but he knows that they ended up shagging on his bedroom floor, surrounded by the sheet music Scripps had brought over. It’s messy, and more than a little bit awkward – Posner tries to suck Scripps off and ends up gagging, and then Scripps bites down too hard on Posner’s chest and they have to stop for a bit – but it’s nice, too, in its own little way.

Not perfect, of course, and maybe not what Posner would have chosen for his first time, but it could have been a lot worse. At least Scripps is a friend.

 

-

 

“You’re thinking again,” Scripps murmurs. Posner can feel the voice rumbling in the sweat-drenched skin beneath his cheek.

“It’s how I got into Oxford. They liked the way I could think under any kind of pressure.”

Scripps laughs, the breath ruffling Posner’s hair, and tightens his fingers on Posner’s hip. “About anything in particular?”

“Just you.”

 

-

 

It’s not like it’s any kind of regular thing. It just happens, sometimes. Posner will go round to Scripps’ college, or vice versa, and sometimes they’ll just sit and talk and drink until the room blurs around the edges, and sometimes they’ll have sex.

It’s completely random. Although it does tend to always happen if they’ve been out for a drink with the Sheffield lot. Posner’s well aware that doesn’t say anything good about his self esteem, but sod it.

What else is he supposed to do? They go out for drinks, and it’s supposed to be all of them back together again. And yet every time, without fail, off goes Dakin with another random girl who he just smiles at and their legs fall open. Posner really can’t be blamed for following Scripps back home, or for pulling Scripps into a back alley as they stumble back.

He just wants to feel wanted.

 

-

 

He pushes Scripps back against the wall, lips messy on his neck and hand scrabbling at their zips.

“Pos, you old romantic,” Scripps whispers in the dark, and Posner doesn’t need to see him to imagine him rolling his eyes.

“Be quiet, Scrippsy, and I promise I’ll do it better once we get home.”

Scripps holds him steady with a hand on his shoulder, and leans in to rest their foreheads together. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers.

 

-

 

Sometimes, Posner thinks he could fall in love with Scripps quite easily.

If it weren’t for Dakin, of course, and God. They each have their own pre-existing lovers, and this – this thing that dare not speak its name – is purely a moment of physical relief in the midst of essays and dinners and the utter crushing formality of life at Oxford.

Posner likes to imagine that they are carrying on a fine tradition of buggery at the university. He’s drawn out enough parallels between their own situation and that portrayed in Brideshead that Scripps had bought him a teddy bear for his last birthday, and smirked over his pint as Akthar demanded an explanation for the private joke.

But no, Posner’s getting off topic. And yet he isn’t – because it’s things like that that make him fall, a little bit. Scripps listens. He listens to the empty platitudes that Posner says, and to the loaded speeches that he traces across Scripps’ skin with his fingers. And he remembers, and he acts upon those small moments with an intimate glance in a crowded place.

Dakin probably wouldn’t. It’s not like Posner is still too far gone to realise that. Until Dakin stops loving himself, there’s not going to be room enough for anything else in his heart.

 

-

 

“What about God?” Posner blurts out one day, when the sun is setting behind the spires and drifting in through half-closed curtains.

Scripps blinks, and pushes himself up on one hand. “What about him?”

“This.” Posner waves one hand, trying to encompass the state of the pair of them, naked and panting on Scripps’ clean sheets.

Scripps stares for a moment, and then flops down next to him. Posner doesn’t want to turn his head and wait for an answer. Somehow, he’s sure he won’t like it. It’s still like Dakin, really. A human heart isn’t made for loving too much. Dakin loves himself with a fervency that couldn’t be bettered by the most ardent acolyte, and Scripps is dedicated to sitting in dusty churches and praying up to the heavens.

“Why are you asking?”

“Because…” Posner looks across the room, and sees his old school tie – the one with the tear his mother neatly sewed up – tied around a chair. “Because I realised. My spaniel heart, that was what you called it. At the risk of sounding hopelessly sentimental, I think it’s got two masters now. I think I love you, Scripps.”

Scripps snorts. “Declaring your love for me, and you can’t even use my first name.”

Posner wrinkles his nose, and darts a glance to his side. Scripps doesn’t look angry, so that’s a good sign. “Of course not. I’m not going to moan ‘Donald’ in the throes of passion.” He swallows, and reaches out across the few inches that separate their bodies. “I’m sorry.”

Scripps squeezes his hand, and doesn’t say anything.

 

-

 

Two days later, Scripps drops down next to Posner, underneath the tree, and leans back on his elbows. “I thought about it. And yeah, the Bible tells me I shouldn’t be doing this with you. And then it tells me that love is the greatest thing, and that God forgives those who love.”

Posner twists a blade of grass between his fingers. “So what did you decide?”

Scripps hums, a little tune Posner can’t quite place, and raises his face to the sunlight. “I know you still like Dakin, Pos.”

“But I’m here with you,” Posner offers. 


End file.
